


Walking the Line

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint was only planning to be in town long enough to make some cash and then move on, but meeting the new owner of the Lazy S Ranch could change his plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking the Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [litra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/gifts).



Clint checked himself one last time in the truck stop restroom mirror and grinned. He’d spent the afternoon in the town’s laundromat, and spent eight of his last forty bucks washing almost every item of clothing he owned. Another two bucks for a shower here at the truck stop, and he felt better than he had in days, scrubbed fresh and wearing clean clothes.

His grey jeans hugged his ass and a slightly-too-small black t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest. He had silver rings on his fingers and in his ears, and he’d even managed to shine his boots and brush most of the dust and dirt off his hat. He settled the black Stetson on his head and checked the mirror again. He looked pretty damn good.

He was feeling good, too. The interview yesterday had gone well, and he’d start his new job tomorrow. Just a simple ranch-hand gig, but it came with room and part-board, and the ranch foreman who’d interviewed him seemed like a good guy. Straight-talking, no-nonsense, but honest and fair. He’d warned Clint that the work would be hard and the hours long, but that didn’t bother him; it wasn’t like he had anything else to do for a while. He’d do the job and put some money aside, and when he got bored he’d move on again, just like he always did.

So tonight he was going out to relax and kick back and have a beer and some fun, before heading out to the Lazy S Ranch first thing in the morning. He’d asked at the local diner, and been assured that The Hitching Post was the place to be on a Saturday night in these parts. Clint climbed into his pickup and put it in gear, wincing as the gears screeched. He reached out with one hand and patted the dash.

“As soon as I get my first paycheck, I’ll find a good mechanic to take care of you, Katie-girl. I promise.”  

The Hitching Post was five miles out from the center of town, and while he drove, Clint scanned through the local radio stations until he found one that was playing a good mix of upbeat songs about riding a horse, and driving a truck, and dancing with a girl. Always a girl, of course, but you couldn’t have everything. Not that Clint didn’t like girls, he liked them just fine. They were soft and curvy and looked pretty and smelled nice. But Clint liked guys, too, and wasn’t ashamed of it, a fact which had gotten him beaten up more than once. He could handle himself pretty well, though, and he wasn’t about to start hiding who he was. Life was too short to let assholes tell you who to be.

Clint pulled into The Hitching Post parking lot which was already three-quarters full at nine o’clock on a Saturday, which he took as a good sign. As he parked and cut the engine, he could hear the music blaring from the building, a good dance tune, and so there was a smile on his face and a spring in his step as he climbed out of his truck and headed for the doors.

Inside, the place didn’t disappoint. It was pleasantly full, with a good mix of men and women. There was a live band on a stage to one side of the large, full dance floor. Small tables took up the space between the dance floor and the bar, which stretched the length of the building. Nearly half the stools were occupied, mostly by older guys - ones who were here to drink and watch and relax, rather than dance or chat up a pretty girl.

Clint was here to dance. He waited, the toe of his boot tapping time on the wooden floor, until the two-step that was playing ended and the band launched into _Achy Breaky Heart_. Lines formed up on the dance floor immediately, and Clint joined the end of the back one. He knew the steps, but there were always local differences and variations to the way people danced, and he didn’t want to mess up too badly. He moved in time with the rest of the dancers, a wide grin on his face as he followed the rhythm of the music and watched the line in front of him. By the end of the second chorus he was more confident, and was slapping his knee and tipping his hat along with the rest of the dancers.

The band then swung into a song Clint didn’t know, but the line dancers stayed in place, so he did too. He picked up the moves quickly and was soon hooting and hollering ‘Yee-haw’ in the chorus with everyone else. Once he’d mastered the steps, he looked around as he danced, taking in The Hitching Post’s atmosphere and patrons. Clint had been in a lot of bars in a lot of small towns across the American midwest. As a result he was a pretty good judge of atmosphere, and this place had a good one. People were happy and relaxed and having a good time. No one was falling-down drunk, and the patrons ranged in age from just-barely legal to elderly white-haired couples.  

When the song finished the band paused for a few moments and then started up another two-step. Clint was about to head for the bar when the pretty young girl who had been next to him in the line grabbed his hand and said, “You’re cute! Dance with me.” Clint gave her a grin and led her around the floor along with all the other couples. She was young, far too young for him. She wasn’t more than twenty-five, and so Clint, who was on the downslope side of thirty-nine, was a perfect gentleman as he danced with her. When the song ended she bounced up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks!” she said before twirling off to find another partner.

“You’re welcome,” Clint said to her back, touching his hat with a grin out of habit. Then he headed for the bar. Dancing was thirsty work, but Clint didn’t drink much. Growing up with an abusive alcoholic father had made him wary or anything but beer, and even then he stuck to light beers, two or three at the most. He found a clear space at the bar, leaned in, and ordered. Drink in hand and paid for, he turned around and looked around some more, just in time to catch a glance from a guy sitting on a bar stool two or three spaces down from him, sitting and surveying the room with a drink of his own.

Clint watched the guy out of the corner of his eye while taking another sip of his beer. He was a few years older than Clint, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar open a couple of buttons. He was wearing cowboy boots, but no hat to cover his somewhat thinning hair. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and and his nose had been badly broken at least once. Clint thought he was gorgeous. He liked his women blond and leggy and bubbly, but when it came to men… Clint liked his men older. He looked for trustworthiness and solidity, warmth and security. Not that he’d ever stuck around long enough to really feel secure, but it was nice to dream. And this guy sitting at the end of the bar, pretending not to check him out, was the stuff of his dreams.  

Clint carefully ignored him while he finished his beer, but when the band started another line-dance song, he made sure to get a spot that put him directly in the guy’s line of sight. He put an extra swing in his hips and a big wide smile on his face, and when the line spun to face the bar, he caught the guy’s eye and didn’t look away until the line turned again. Having made his interest clear, he waited for the guy to make the next move.

And was disappointed. When the band swung into another two-step, Clint drifted casually towards the bar, but the guy just turned around on his stool. Clint shrugged and leaned up against a wall, watching the dancers move around the floor. This time he paid more attention to the couples, and sure enough, there wasn’t a single same-gender pair, not even a couple of younger girls dancing together. This was one of those towns, then, where that sort of thing wasn’t appreciated.

Clint sighed. In the past few years, ever since scientists had started making discoveries about how soulbonds worked, and had showed that they were just as common and just as strong among gay and bisexual people as straights, things had gotten somewhat better. Same-gender marriage had been legalized, for instance, even though some conservative churches still railed against it. But those churches had less and less power these days, as the various factions lined up. Some preached that only soulbonded people could marry (gay or straight) while others held the opposite view, that a soulbond was a cheat, and that true love was only found among the unbonded who chose to marry anyway.

Clint had little time for either view. He knew first hand that a soulbond was no guarantee of love or happiness. It was just chemical, like the scientists said. Just a fluke that out of every few thousand people you met and touched, one of them happened to be on your same wavelength. People argued over why and how the soulbond had arisen in humans, but Clint didn’t really care either way. He didn’t even like the term. What he’d felt the couple of times he’d met someone he was… compatible with... didn’t have anything to do with his soul, which he only half-believed in anyway. It was just… an unsettling ability to know how they felt, and the even more unsettling knowledge that they could tell how you felt, too. Sure there were people who claimed they could hear their partner’s thoughts, but that was mostly the fodder of sappy movies and even sappier romance novels. No, the soulbond was just another form of attraction, one that happened to be emotional instead of physical.

The band started to play _Always on my Mind_ and couples moved in close. ‘What the hell, it’s worth a shot,’ Clint thought, and sidled up to the gorgeous guy at the bar. The guy glanced up at him and nodded minutely, but Clint could see the tips of his ears going a little pink. Bingo.

“Would you like to dance?” Clint asked.

The guy turned around and looked behind him.

“No, I’m asking you. You were watching me, earlier, so would you like to dance?” Close up, Clint could see details he’d missed from further away. Like the little divot in the guy’s right ear from a former piercing, and the dark shadow of a tattoo on his bicep through the fabric of his white shirt.

“I’m not, ah…” The guy faltered.

“Gay?” Clint said skeptically.

“Out.” The guy glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. “I grew up around here, but I’ve just moved back after… After a long time away. I… I wanted to give people the chance to get to know me again, before…”

“Yeah, okay. I guess I get that. I’m new in town too. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Clint thought about introducing himself, and offering his hand, but the guy was already staring into his drink, pretending that they hadn’t even been talking, so Clint just shrugged and moved off.

He danced some more, had another beer, and then called it a night. Jasper, the ranch foreman, had told him to show up for breakfast at 8am, so he didn’t want to risk not waking up in time. Clint drove back to the truck stop, used the bathroom, and changed out of his good clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and an old ratty t-shirt. Then he bedded down in the back of Katie’s cab. It was cramped, but at least this would be the last night for a while that he’d be sleeping in his truck.

 

~~~~~~

 

Clint tossed his bag onto his bunk and looked around the room. Sam Wilson, the guy that he’d sat across from at breakfast and would be bunking with, was a lot neater than he was. Clint would have to make an effort to keep his stuff on his side. At least there was a wardrobe and a small chest of drawers to stuff everything into. After breakfast and introductions, Jasper had given the rest of the hands their tasks for the day and they’d headed out. Clint had offered to go with them and unpack later, but Jasper insisted on him unpacking and settling in.

“Besides, I’ve got to get your Social Security number and so on for the paperwork. The boss is a bit of a stickler for paperwork.”

 So Clint shrugged and shouldered his bag so that Jasper could show him to his bunk.

“Once you’re done unpacking, come back down and I’ll take you over to the main house. You can meet the boss and we’ll get all your info.”

The prospect of meeting a boss who was a stickler for paperwork worried Clint. “Look, ah, I told you at the interview that I never finished high school or anything, right? I–”

“Don’t worry, Clint. We’re not going to make you take a test. I don’t care what education you have or haven’t got so long as you can ride a horse and rope a cow and fix a fence—and neither does Phil. He’s a good guy, really, despite what you might have heard in town.”

“What do you mean? I, uh, didn’t hear anything in town,” Clint said as he followed Jasper back down to the big common kitchen and out across the yard.

“Phil moved back here to take over the ranch three months ago, after his mother died. She’d run the place by herself for twenty years, ever since Phil left to join the Army. Some people were upset at him for leaving. Folks around here have got long memories, and some of the same people are upset now that he’s back. We lost a couple of our old hands, which is why we’re short right now.”

Clint nodded. Jasper led him to the ranch house and across the veranda, then walked in without knocking. “Phil? I’ve got the new hand here.”

“I’m in the dining room,” called a strangely familiar voice.

Clint was trying to place it as Jasper took them through a big farm kitchen and into the next room. Sitting at a long dining table with most of the chairs pushed back to the walls, tapping away on a laptop with occasional glances at the piles of paperwork that covered the table, and wearing thick-rimmed glasses, was the gorgeous guy from last night. He was still typing, so Clint had a minute to recover, and paste a smirk onto his face. 

“Phil, this is Clint Barton,” Jasper said when he finally stopped tapping at the keys and looked up. Phil’s eyes widened almost comically when he saw Clint standing there.

“Yes, of course,” he said, clearly flustered. “I’ve got your employment contract right here.” He dug through a stack of papers at his elbow. “Please sit down.” He waved his hand at a nearby chair. “Thanks, Jasper.”

“Send him out to the stables when you’re done with him so that I can get him outfitted and he can choose a horse.”

“Yes, of course.” Phil was still staring at the papers in his hand.

Jasper nodded and left.

Clint sprawled in the chair he’d pulled up to the table, stretching one leg out under the table and letting the other knee splay wide, making sure his assets were on display. Just to mess with the boss a little; or maybe to find out if he was more interested that he’d seemed at the bar last night.

“I, ah... I hope you’re willing to be, ah, professional about our... our discussion at The Hitching Post last night,” Phil said, still not looking up.

Suddenly, Clint felt sorry for him. Imagine growing up gay in this little conservative town. And then folks hating you for leaving, and hating you again for coming back. No wonder he didn’t want to risk being open about his sexuality, not when there was already so much stacked against him. Clint straightened in his chair and leaned forward a little to show his sincerity. “Sure, ‘course. I’m not gonna out you or anything like that. You don’t have to worry.”

Phil finally looked up. Behind the glasses, his eyes looked bigger and bluer and more beautiful than Clint remembered. “Thank you. I appreciate it very much. It’s been hard for me, coming back to all this.”

“Yeah, Jasper explained a little. I get it. You can trust me, promise.”

Phil nodded and handed him the sheets of paper and a pen. “If you could just fill in all the blanks, name, date of birth, Social Security number, emergency contact, and so on.”

Clint scanned the form. “Uh, do you really need an emergency contact? I don’t really have any family.”

“It doesn’t have to be family, a friend will do fine. Just someone that you want us to call if you get sick or have an accident or something like that.”

“I, uh, I move around a lot,” Clint mumbled, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“I see,” Phil said gently. “Just leave it blank, then, and fill in the rest.”

Clint carefully wrote out his full name, ‘Clinton Francis Barton,’ like he always did on anything official. It had taken him pretty much all of third grade to learn to do it right, without writing the ‘s’ backwards or swapping the ‘r’ and the ‘t’. He might not have much, but he knew who he was, and he was proud of that. He filled in the rest of the form and slid it back across the table to Phil.

“Great, thank you. And this one is your employment contract. It just says in writing everything Jasper went over with you yesterday: notice period, salary, working hours, vacation time, and the room and board agreement. If you’re still okay with all of that, sign at the bottom, please.”

Clint glanced at the page. With one exception, everywhere else he’d worked had done all this stuff on a handshake. Clint now understood what Jasper had meant about Phil being a stickler for paperwork. He didn’t read well enough or fast enough to make sure that the paper said what Phil said it did, but he had decided that Jasper was trustworthy yesterday, and was starting to feel the same way about Phil. So he looked at it for a couple of minutes to make it seem like he was reading it through, and then signed at the bottom.

“Both copies, please,” Phil said with an apologetic smile.

Clint flipped to the next page and found it was a copy of the first. He signed and dated that one as well, and then slid the papers and the pen back across the table to Phil, who signed his own name with a small flourish on both pages. He slid one into a tan-colored folder and handed the other to Clint.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, taking the paper and folding it in half, and then worrying that maybe he shouldn’t have, if it was an official document.. But Phil didn’t look surprised or disapproving, so maybe it was okay.

“Do you have any other questions?”

Clint wanted to ask how involved Phil was in running the ranch. If he’d be out giving instructions or if he left all the day-to-day management to Jasper, and spent all his time holed up in here with his paperwork and laptop. But Clint knew the question wasn’t appropriate, and while usually that wouldn’t have stopped him from asking it anyway, this time it did. He liked Phil. He still thought he was gorgeous, and now that he knew a little bit more about him, Clint found him interesting, too. So Clint said, “No, I guess that’s it. I’ll, uh, go meet up with Jasper in the stables.” Clint stood up.

“Yes, good. I say this to everyone, and I really mean it.” Phil took off his glasses at looked up at Clint. “If you have any problems, or you think you see a better way of doing things, or anything like that at all, I want you to come to Jasper or myself, whoever you’re more comfortable talking to. I know you’ve worked on a lot of different ranches, and have a lot of valuable experience. I grew up here, but I’ve been away a long time. I want to do right by this place, and I’m not too proud to take suggestions from my employees. That doesn’t mean I’ll always use them, but I will always listen to what you have to say. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Clint was pretty sure Phil meant it, too. “I’ll, uh, see you around, I guess.”

“Yes. Thank you again, Clint.” Phil looked a little uncomfortable as he said it, so Clint knew he was referring to their interaction in the bar, and Clint’s promise to keep quiet about it.

“You’re welcome. I’ll just go find Jasper now.”

“Ask him about Boomerang. I think he might suit you.”

“Okay. Sure.” Clint sketched a wave and left, the sound of typing starting up again as he headed out of the room.

 

~~~~~~

 

Clint settled in surprisingly quickly at the Lazy S Ranch. He’d lived in bunkhouses a few times before, but never one as comfortable and relaxed as this. The hands all took turns cooking, based on a schedule that Natasha had written up and pinned on the wall in the kitchen next to the fridge. It turned out that Clint was the second-best cook, after Sam. Nat was third, Steve fourth, and there was a lively discussion around the breakfast table almost every Sunday morning over whether or not Bucky should be excused from cooking entirely and relegated to permanent dish-duty.

Sam was laid back and easy to get along with. Bucky was sullen and quiet, completely at odds with Steve who was almost always smiling and happy. Nat was… Nat. She didn’t take any shit, didn’t let you get too close, and was scary good at almost everything, but Clint soon found out that they shared the same sardonic sense of humor. He respected her boundaries and she respected his, and they got along very well.

The work was varied and interesting. Jasper made a real effort to rotate them fairly through the jobs that needed to be done, while keeping a keen eye on who had a particular aptitude for what. Clint found himself riding the fences with Nat or Bucky, chopping firewood with Steve, and taking care of the horses with Sam, which was far better than the usual system where the newest hire got the (often literally) shittiest jobs. Wherever he was working, Clint always kept an eye out for Phil, who pitched in here and there whenever he could drag himself away from his laptop. Clint still thought the man was gorgeous, so seeing Phil in torn jeans and an old t-shirt, unloading bags of feed from the back of his truck after a run into town, face sweaty, hair mussed, surprisingly impressive biceps bulging, made Clint’s mouth go dry and his dick harden.

‘Maybe if he feels more comfortable after a while,’ Clint thought. ‘Maybe, if I stick around for long enough.’

One sunny morning just over three weeks later Clint was cleaning out the stables when Steve and Bucky came riding back into the yard at a fast clip. Steve swung down off his horse and looked around. “Have you seen Phil?” he called to Clint, who left his wheelbarrow and headed over.

“I saw Sam head into the main house about ten minutes ago, so that’s probably where Phil is. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a section of fence down on the east boundary, and it looks like some of the herd went through it.”

“Shit, there’s a bunch of new calves, and they’ll get onto the highway.”

“Exactly,” Steve said over his shoulder, heading for the house with a quick stride. Clint headed back into the stables and started to saddle up Boomerang. Bucky joined him and grabbed Nat’s saddle to help with her horse, Widow. They were soon joined by Sam, Phil, and Nat. It was Jasper’s day off, and he was in town getting supplies. Clint led Boomerang out into the yard and tossed his reins over a rail. Then he ran back to the bunkhouse. He grabbed his duffel from under his bed and pulled out a bowie knife in a leather sheath. He slid it onto his belt and tied it down to his thigh, then jogged back out to the yard where Sam was just leading his horse Falcon out, and Phil was distributing canteens.   

“Everyone got their phones and plenty of water?” Phil asked. He got nods from everyone and a ‘yessir’ from Steve.

“Okay, we’ll ride out to the break in the fence and then split into pairs, Steve and Bucky, you two stay  together, Natasha goes with Sam, Clint’s with me. Steve and Bucky will patch up the fence first, and then join in the round up. Everyone good with that?” Phil vaulted up onto Lola, his roan mare.

Clint’s heart started to beat a little faster at the thought of spending the day rounding up escaped cattle with Phil, and he covered his nerves by checking his lasso, his canteen and his knife. They headed out at an easy canter and it took them twenty minutes to get to the break in the fence.

“Looks like some idiot on an ATV went through it. Probably riding at night and didn’t even see it,” Nat said as Steve and Bucky dismounted and Steve pulled the extra wire for a temporary repair out of his saddlebags.

“Check in with me every half-hour—at least—by phone. We don’t know for sure how many got out, so you’re going to have to follow tracks as best you can. Once we’ve rounded up as many as we can find, I’ll call Nick in to do a sweep with his chopper and see if he can spot any we’ve missed.” While Phil issued instructions and laid out the plan, Clint was already examining the ground to try to spot the best direction for them to take.

“This way, boss,” he said when Phil nodded to Nat and Sam, and turned back to him. “There’s a bunch of tracks leading east.” Clint pointed.

“Well spotted. Let’s go.”

They followed the tracks to a small group of cows and calves who had found a nice patch of Bluestem to munch on. It wasn’t difficult to circle round and herd them back to the fence. Steve and Bucky were finishing up the temporary repairs, and Steve held a section of fence open for the cattle to head through.

After checking in with Nat, Phil nodded to Clint and they headed back out. Clint spotted a lone set of small hoofprints and they followed it to a tiny calf bawling for its mother. It was scared and skittish, though, and they couldn’t get close to it without it scampering off. Clint took his lasso off his saddle horn and got ready to throw.

“Are you sure you can catch it from here? Don’t you want to try to get closer?” Phil asked.

Clint grinned at the opportunity to show off a little for Phil. “Just watch,” he said. He played out the rope and got it swinging, the rhythm feeling easy and familiar. He watched the calf, who was still moving nervously side to side. With unerring timing, he let the rope fly and it landed square over the calf’s head. A quick tug and the loop pulled taut. The calf startled and tried to run, but Clint was already urging Boomerang forward and taking up the slack. Once the calf was standing near the horse, it calmed down a little. Clint secured the rope to his saddle-horn.

“Nice throw. Are you always that good, or was it luck?” Phil asked.

“I haven’t missed a throw since I was eight years old,” Clint said, letting his pride in his skills show. “I started competing in rodeos when I was a teenager. I even spent some time with a travelling Wild West show, roping, trick riding, sharpshooting, all that stuff.”

“I’m impressed,” Phil said. “And very glad to have you working for me. Now let’s get this little fella back to his mother, and see how the others are doing.”

The set off at an easy pace so that the calf could keep up, trotting alongside Clint’s horse at the end of its rope. Phil was slightly ahead of him, so Clint had enough warning to rein Boomerang to an abrupt stop when Phil’s horse suddenly shrieked and reared. Clint could see Phil fighting to keep his seat, but Lola reared again, kicking out with her forelegs and dancing on her back legs. Phil was a good rider, but gravity was against him and he tumbled out of the saddle, landing heavily on the ground. Lola danced sideways a few steps, still screaming. Now Clint could see what was causing the problem. He slid off Boomerang’s back, keeping his movements slow and careful. Phil was sitting up and shaking his head to clear it. Clint stepped forward, trying to keep Boomerang, the calf, Lola and Phil all in his field of vision.

“Stay back, Clint, it’s a rattlesnake,” Phil said, turning his head halfway to keep one eye on the danger.

“I see it. Trust me,” Clint said. He took one more careful step forward so that he was closer to the snake than Phil, worried that he might be hurt from falling off his horse. Then Clint took his knife out of the sheath and brought it up into position slowly, trying to keep his movements smooth. He watched the snake and the snake watched him. When he was ready he took one long breath in, then let it out and threw, his wrist snapping to give it just the right spin.

The blade of the knife went through the rattlesnake’s head and the force of Clint’s throw flung its body back against a rock, where it coiled and twitched for a moment before lying still. Clint watched it for a full minute before he moved, turning his head to check on Boomerang and the calf, then Lola, then Phil, who was looking up at him with admiration.

Clint fought the blush that was threatening to rise in his cheeks, and stuck out his hand to help Phil up.

“That was amazing,” Phil said.

Clint shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got good aim.”

Phil reached for his hand and Clint grasped it firmly and pulled Phil to his feet.

Holding Phil’s hand, Clint felt confusion, then surprise, then joy. Then… concern.

“Oh, hell no!” Clint said, dropping Phil’s hand and stepping back. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as if he was afraid Phil would reach for them.

Phil was looking at him with wide eyes. “Was that? That felt like... Did you?” Phil got a hold of himself and took a deep breath in and let it out. “I just felt something that would seem to indicate that we’re soulbond compatible,” he said.

“Yeah, and?” Clint’s instinct, as always, was to run. As fast and as far away as he possibly could. But the look on Phil’s face, at the same time hopeful and sad, and the feelings he was still getting from Phil, even though they weren’t touching anymore (and that was a new one on Clint): longing, so much longing, and concern, and relief, and… yeah, there was a strong undercurrent of sexual attraction as well. Phil wanted to fuck him. The feelings weren’t new, Clint could somehow tell, but Phil had been burying them. Now that he knew they were potential soulmates, though, Phil’s libido was revving into high gear.

Clint took another step back. He’d met people he was soulbond compatible with a couple of times before, but the… empathy—that’s what people called it; this unnerving ability to sense what the other person was feeling—had never been this strong before. And never when he wasn’t in physical contact with someone.

And as Clint thought that, he could suddenly feel Phil yearning to touch him. To hold him, to be naked with him, and… His body started to respond to Phil’s desires. Clint shook his head as if that could clear it.

“I’ve never felt this before,” Phil said. “Until just now, I thought I was a Null.”

“Oh.”

“I always thought that what the movies showed,” Phil said, staring straight into Clint’s eyes with such longing, “about knowing what the other person was feeling and thinking, was an exaggeration. Just something they did for dramatic effect. Not really what it would be like. But I can actually feel how hesitant you are. How ready to run. But I can also feel that you’re, well, interested in me. Don’t run, Clint. Please. I… I’d really like the chance to get to know you better, to find out if maybe we could be… something… together.”

The openness Clint was getting from Phil, the willingness to lay his soul bare, was almost as frightening as the soulbond itself. “You don’t really want to get to know me,” Clint said, trying desperately to shield what he was thinking from Phil: ‘I’m dumb. If I let you in you’d just be disappointed.’ Seeing the pity on people’s faces when they found out about his past was bad enough, there was no way Clint ever wanted to feel it, as well.

What he did feel, though, coming from Phil, was his initial joy fading and being replaced with sadness and loneliness. It hit Clint like a punch in the gut. He didn’t want to make Phil sad. He didn’t want to leave Phil alone. But…

“Look, I, uh. I need some time to think, okay? I like you, Phil, a lot. But I don’t know if I can do this.”

Clint felt the spark of hope from Phil, and saw the guarded expression on his face. “Of course, I understand. Take all the time you need.”

The hope was now mixed with Phil bracing himself for disappointment, and that made Clint want to wrap his arms around Phil and promise he’d stay and be bonded to him. Clint had never felt like this before. Never been so deeply affected by someone else’s feelings. Never cared so much about them being happy, about not causing them pain. The extent to which he wanted to throw caution to the wind, to risk Phil’s reactions, to rush headlong into a bond scared him as much as the idea of being bonded did.

“Phil, I’m not… This isn’t me trying to let you down easy. I wouldn’t do that. I just… I just need to be alone for a bit to think and figure some things out.”

That got a small smile out of Phil. “Okay, well, let’s head back to the fence. I’ll go back to the house and call Nick about doing that chopper pass. You can help round up the stragglers. And then, when you’re ready, come talk to me. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

As they rode back to the fence in silence, Clint’s ability to sense Phil’s feelings faded away. He realized he missed it, and wondered if Phil did too. As the fence came into sight, Phil said, “Come up to the house anytime. Whenever you’re ready. Anytime at all.” Phil turned in his saddle to look at Clint and the brightness in his eyes and the hope on his face made Clint want to promise him the moon.

 

~~~~~~

 

“What’s the matter, you not hungry?” Nat poked Clint with her elbow as he pushed his chili mac & cheese around on his plate.

“Actually, I’m, uh, not feeling too good. I think I’m gonna go lie down,” Clint said. He’d prefer to get in his truck and drive a hundred miles, or saddle up Boomerang and ride out on the range under the stars, but if he drove off the ranch, he wasn’t sure he’d come back, and taking Boomerang out at night would raise too many eyebrows. So he headed up to his room and flopped down on his bunk. Sam would probably hang out in the common room for at least a couple of hours after dinner to give him some privacy, because he was a considerate guy.

Clint wanted to be with Phil. The man was smart, and sweet, and gorgeous, and sexy, and solid and dependable and pretty much everything Clint had ever wanted. The fact that they were soulbond compatible, though, meant that if Clint got into a relationship with him, it would be a lot more than just sex and companionship. If they started sleeping together, sooner or later they’d bond, and until now, Clint had been completely certain that that was something he would never, ever want.

Having someone who could feel his emotions, even maybe pick up on his thoughts, scared the hell out of him. Especially someone as smart and as capable as Phil. Phil might think he wanted Clint now, but after they’d been together for a while, once Phil really got to know him and found out how little education Clint had, and the fact that his aim with a rope or a knife or a rifle was really the only thing he had going for him, Phil would be disappointed. He’d regret bonding with Clint, and Clint would have to live with not only knowing, but also feeling that regret until Phil decided it was time to break the bond.

But maybe it would be worth it. Having Phil for a few months, maybe even a year. Being happy for a while—making Phil happy—maybe that would soften the blow. There was a saying he’d heard, ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’ Maybe that was true. Clint wasn’t in love with Phil, not yet, but he knew all it would take was Phil smiling at him some more…

Clint wanted Phil to smile at him. Wanted to fulfill the desperate longing he’d sensed and take away the loneliness Phil felt, even if it was only for a little while. Clint could do his best to bury his doubts, and be happy around Phil. Things could be good, for a while, and then when they weren’t anymore, he’d move on, like he always did.

Decision made, he got up, took a shower and changed into clean clothes.

Clint walked up the three steps onto the veranda of the old ranch house. A dozen questions about the logistics of a relationship with Phil ran through his head. Then it occurred to him that maybe Phil had changed his mind since this afternoon, and had decided that a relationship with Clint wasn’t something he wanted after all. ‘Well, I’ve got gas money, at least, so I’ll just move on sooner rather than later.’ Stomach churning with nerves, Clint knocked on the wooden frame of the screen door, and then opened it and stepped into the house, like Jasper and all the hands did when they needed to talk to Phil.

“Phil?” he called. “It’s, uh, Clint.” He heard the sound of a chair creaking and hurried steps.

“Clint!” Phil appeared in the hallway, a bright smile on his face, then it faltered. “Have you, ah... Have you come to tell me you’re leaving?” he asked, looking Clint up and down.

“No? I, um, came to talk. About… stuff.”

Phil’s smile brightened. “That’s great! I mean… Good. Come in, we’ll sit in the den, it’s more comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Tea? Or a beer?” Phil asked as he led Clint down the hall to a cozy room with an old leather sofa and a small pot-bellied stove.

“Um, a beer would be good if you’re having one, thanks,” Clint said. A beer would help him relax a little bit, and give him something to do with his hands while they talked.

“Sure. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” Phil gestured towards the sofa and then disappeared. Clint sat and looked around, realizing that the walls were lined with bookshelves. Some of them held an assortment of memorabilia, family photos, trophies and ribbons from agricultural shows, a stuffed sturgeon mounted on a board, but a lot of the shelves were filled with books. Phil’s family must like to read. All of Clint’s doubts rushed back. ‘He’s not going to want anything to do with me when he finds out how dumb I am.’

Phil came back into the room, still smiling, with two open bottles. He handed one to Clint and sat down within arm’s reach on the sofa. He clinked his bottle against Clint’s with a sheepish grin and took a sip. Clint did the same, then gripped his bottle tightly in both hands. 

“Look, I, uh…” Clint faltered, then said in a rush, “I dropped out of school in ninth grade. I, uh, my parents died when I was ten and my brother and I were put in foster care. I moved around a lot, changed schools all the time and never really caught up on things. Also, I, uh, I’m kinda dumb to begin with. So when I was fourteen I just quit and joined up with that Wild West show I was telling you about. I lied and told them I was sixteen. I still don’t read so good.” With the last admission, Clint dropped his eyes and picked at the label on his beer bottle with his thumb, waiting for Phil to ask him to leave.

“I’ve known I was gay since I was eight years old,” Phil said. Clint blinked, surprised at the sudden change of topic, but he was quiet, letting Phil talk. “I also knew that it was… that it wasn’t acceptable to people around here. I spent my entire childhood pretending to be someone I wasn’t. A lot of the time, I felt like I was suffocating here. On my eighteenth birthday I drove to the nearest recruiting office and joined the Army. Partly to escape from here, and partly to prove to everyone, and to myself, that I was a man.” Phil’s voice broke on the last word and, looking into his eyes, Clint could feel the pain coming from him, even though they weren’t touching. Instinctively, he reached out, but stopped with his hand a couple of inches from Phil’s face.

Phil’s own hand came up and he cupped it around Clint’s, guiding it to his cheek. The minute they touched, Phil’s emotions flooded through Clint. The remembered loneliness, the hope that was sparking to life, the tinge of sadness that he felt for Clint... But overpowering them all was the joy he felt and the comfort he took from Clint’s touch. Clint swept his thumb slowly across Phil’s cheekbone, both to make Phil happy, and to feel Phil’s reaction, which was a quickening of his pulse and a spark of arousal.

“Please say you’ll stay, that you want this. With me,” Phil asked, his voice unsteady.

“I want this. I want you. I’ll stay for as long as you want me to,” Clint said. Phil must have been able to feel his self-doubt because his eyes went soft and sad, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of Clint’s hand.

“If I’d danced with you that night,” Phil said wistfully.

“If you’d danced with me that night, I would have been a hundred miles away by morning.”

“So you’ve never been, ah, physical with someone that you were… compatible with?”

Clint could feel Phil’s surprise, and shook his head. “Didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want to get… trapped.”

“I don’t want to make you feel trapped, I just want to make you happy. And I want–” Phil broke off and blushed, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence, because Clint could feel his arousal, and it was feeding his own. Clint slid his hand around to the back of Phil’s neck and urged him forward. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that soon turned hot and wet and desperate. One of Phil’s hands was in Clint’s hair, and he wrapped his free arm around Phil’s waist, pulling him even closer. He could feel how much Phil liked his hands gripping, how his strength turned Phil on.

Still kissing him deeply, Phil tugged Clint’s t-shirt out of his jeans and slid his hand warmly up Clint’s spine. It felt like fire rippling through him, and Clint moaned into the kiss. He leaned back and pulled Phil on top of him, wanting to feel his weight, the solid presence of him. Phil groaned and rubbed against him. Clint pulled his mouth away to gasp, “Oh, fuck. Phil.”

“Yes,” Phil mumbled into his neck. “Want you so much, but maybe not here? There’s a bed upstairs. And condoms and lube.”

“God yeah. Will you fuck me? Want you to.”

Phil must have been able to feel how much Clint loved the idea of him taking control, because his hand tightened a little in Clint’s hair. “I would love to fuck you. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”  Phil climbed off the couch and took Clint’s hand to pull him up.

A very few minutes later, they were naked in Phil’s bed, eagerly exploring each others bodies. Clint could feel the reverence with which Phil touched him, and it shocked him and made him wonder how much experience Phil actually had with men. ‘If he was in the closet, and then in the Army…’

“Phil,” Clint said, then moaned as Phil cupped his balls in one warm hand. “Just a sec, okay?”

“What’s wrong?” Phil looked up, the concern on his face mirroring the worry that Clint could feel.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. This is great.” Clint rubbed a soothing hand up and down Phil’s spine. “I just… I don’t know how to ask this but I kinda feel I have to. Have you, uh, done this before?” Clint gave a thrust with his hips, grinding their hard cocks together to make it clear what he meant.

Phil blushed, and Clint could feel his shame. “I… Yes. But only a few times. And not, ah... Not recently.”

“It’s okay,” Clint said, kissing Phil’s shoulder to reassure him. “I don’t care. I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t, you know, completely new for you.”

“I appreciate that,” Phil said, smiling again now, “but I do know what I’m doing.” To illustrate his point, Phil’s fingers delved behind Clint’s sac, exploring until he found and pressed lightly on the pucker of Clint’s ass. Clint moaned again. “Good?” said Phil.

“You have to ask?”

“No, I don’t. I can feel how much you like this,” Phil said, rubbing his fingertip back and forth across Clint’s hole. “Can you feel how much I love making you feel good?”

“Yes,” Clint gasped. Because he could, and it was overwhelming. Phil was just as turned on as he was, maybe even more so, because this was rarer for him, but his other emotions were almost as strong. His relief at finding out that he wasn’t a Null. His joy at being with Clint. His pleasure at being able to give pleasure. Clint wanted to make him feel good, too. So while Phil uncapped the lube and started to slowly work two fingers into Clint’s ass, Clint explored Phil’s body with his hands and his lips, cataloguing all the little spots that caused an extra spike of pleasure.

That was how Clint discovered how sensitive Phil’s nipples were. Clint rubbed lightly with his thumb at one of the small pink nubs that were almost hidden in the thatch of greying hair on Phil’s chest, and Phil arched and moaned and stilled his fingers.

“Oh god. That’s so good, Clint. So fucking good.”

Clint could feel the waves of pleasure washing over Phil and it was a heady experience, knowing for certain that he was the cause of it. Something started to happen, as if time slowed down, and the world started to go a tiny bit fuzzy around the edges of Clint’s usually sharp vision. But Clint ignored the odd sensation because Phil had three fingers in his ass now, and was pumping them slowly, carefully, in and out, working Clint’s hole so gently that there was no burn, but only a delicious stretch that felt so good. Clint could feel himself leaking onto his belly and he reached down to stroke Phil’s cock, eager to learn the shape and heft of it.

“Tell me,” Phil gasped as Clint stroked him lightly. “Tell me what you like once I’m inside you. I… I’m pretty sure I’m not going to last very long, so I want to make it good.”

“It’s gonna be good. Just having you inside me is going to be amazing,” Clint said, but Phil must have been able to feel his slight unease, because he kissed Clint’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Whatever you like, I want to give it to you. No matter what it is. Please, Clint.”

“I like… I like you being on top, so I can see you. I like… I like it a little... wild. Out of control. A little rough. I want you to get what you need, Phil. Anything you need from me, I want you to take it. Take me.”

Clint had never been able to say those words before. He’d just picked partners that were older, self-assured, maybe even a little arrogant, and hoped for the best.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” Phil whispered, his fingers stilling inside Clint’s body and his wide eyes fixing on Clint’s. Then he surged forward and kissed Clint hard, demandingly. Clint moaned into the kiss and his hips jerked, wanting… wanting. Phil was panting when he broke the kiss. He withdrew his fingers and got to his knees, fumbling for the condom packet and tearing it open with his teeth.

Clint stared up at him as Phil rolled the condom on and shuffled forward to line himself up. Clint hooked his wrist around one thigh and pulled it up and as far back as he could to give Phil better access.

“Fuck,” Phil said on a quiet breath, putting one hand on Clint’s other thigh to hold it up and using the other to guide the head of his cock into position.

“Please.” Clint knew it sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t care. He wanted this so much. Needed it. Needed Phil. “Please.”

Phil eased in slowly, and Clint knew, somehow, that it was partly because he wanted to be careful, to make it perfect for them both, and partly because he was already so close to the edge that he knew he wouldn't last long once he started to thrust. The combination of the physical sensations, his own emotions, and his perception of Phil’s was overwhelming, and Clint couldn’t do anything for a moment except lie there and gasp for breath. It felt so good, so right. It felt perfect. Clint reached for Phil, needing more contact, and pulled him down. Phil planted his free hand on the bed near Clint’s shoulder, leaning heavily into Clint’s raised thigh.

‘Okay?’ Phil asked.

‘Perfect. It’s perfect,’ Clint said.

‘Yes, perfect.’

The shimmering at the edge of Clint’s vision increased to the point where it looked like Phil was glowing. Clint realized that neither of them had spoken aloud, that they could hear each other’s thoughts.

‘The bond. We’re bonding.’

‘I thought it took longer than that?’ Phil was surprised, confused, but not concerned or afraid. ‘Days of close contact, weeks…’

‘We could stop it, if you don’t want…’ Clint was surprised by how much it hurt to think of Phil not wanting to be bonded to him, but he had to give Phil the option.

‘I do want. I want this. I want you.’ Phil’s conviction came through clearly. ‘If you…’

‘I never thought I would. But I do. I don’t know if it will last, but I want to try,’ Clint thought, trying to project hope and bury his fears.

‘I’m afraid too,’ and sure enough, Clint could feel Phil’s worry about his age and his looks and Clint being stuck in this little town with him and wanting more, deciding to move on.

‘No, no. I’ll stay for as long as you want me around,’ Clint affirmed in his mind what he’d said aloud earlier, hoping Phil could feel the truth of it. 

“I can,” Phil said aloud.

Clint smiled. He was already almost bent in half, but he’d always been pretty flexible, so he hiked his thigh up even further and slid his hand to the back of Phil’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. ‘I’ll stay, and be bonded to you,’ Clint thought as they kissed, and the shimmer coalesced into a web of tendrils joining him to Phil. Thoughts and emotions flowed between them. Surprise and wonder and joy and… love. At least that’s what Clint figured it must be, this feeling of his heart being so full that he thought his chest would burst.   

But he could also feel Phil’s cock throbbing in his ass, and their arousal spiked simultaneously. Phil gave a powerful thrust that left them both gasping.

‘Yes. Please, more. Phil.’

_Want. Need. Love._

_Take. Love. Love. Love._

The sensations built, his feelings and Phil’s merging and growing and feeding each other until Clint didn’t know where he ended and Phil began. It should have been terrifying, but instead it felt like finally finding something he’d been searching for his whole life. Phil was inside him, and all around him, fucking him and holding him, wanting him and loving him.

Fucking him fast and hard and perfectly.

‘Gonna come. Gonna come so hard,’ Phil thought, and it took Clint a moment to realize he was asking permission. 

‘Yes. Let go. Come.’ Clint tilted his hips just a little more so that Phil’s next stroke grazed his prostate and as it did he felt Phil start to come. His own orgasm ripped through him like a jolt of electricity, tearing a cry from his throat and whiting out his vision. He could still feel Phil, though, warm and solid on top of him and thick and hard inside him and also somehow entwined with him, with his soul, filling him with comfort and reassurance and love.

Clint had no idea how long they lay there before the small physical discomforts prodded them to move. Phil withdrew and rolled over, and Clint shifted so that their shoulders touched, not wanting to break contact just yet. He felt, rather than saw, Phil’s warm appreciative smile, which prompted him to open his eyes and turn his head. 

“Hi,” Phil said aloud, his voice deep and a little rough.

“Hi. That was…” Clint shrugged and grinned. ‘Incredible, unbelievable, and the best sex of my entire life,’ he finished in his head.

‘Mine too, though that’s not saying much,’ Phil answered, then blushed.

“Hey, we should get tested,” Clint said. “I’ve been pretty careful, so I’m almost sure I’m clean, but if we knew for sure, then… I mean, if you want.”

‘I want,’ came through loud and clear even before Phil said it aloud.

Clint laughed. Phil laughed, and then his face went serious and he turned onto his side. He reached out and put a hand on Clint’s hip.

“Look, I don’t know how all this is going to work, if you want to move in here, if you even want to keep working here,” Phil said. Clint was glad he could feel Phil’s emotions, and still pick up on his thoughts, because it meant he knew Phil wanted him to move in, but was trying not to pressure him. “What I do know is that I love you and I chose to bond to you and I’m going to do everything I can to make it work out. Including,” Phil took a breath and Clint reached for him, knowing what he was about to say. “Including being open about who I am, and who we are, with everyone. Starting tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want you to ever have any excuse to think I’m ashamed of you, or of us. I want to do this. I think I need to, for me as much as for us.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be right beside you, all the time.”

“I know. I love you Clint.”

Clint swallowed. Feeling Phil’s love and hearing him say it out loud were more different that he  expected.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I know, I can feel it. I understand,” Phil said.

Clint leaned in and kissed him softly, then pulled back a couple of inches to look into Phil’s eyes.

“I’ve never said this before, to anyone. I never could, because it wouldn’t have been true. But it is. I know you know, but…” Clint kissed him again, buying time and gathering his courage. Time to stop running. “I love you, Phil.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to desert-neon for beta-reading!


End file.
